


got your man outlined in chalk

by soullessfollower98



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Ant-Man and the Wasp (2018) Spoilers, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), it'll get better tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-08 18:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15249183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soullessfollower98/pseuds/soullessfollower98
Summary: “No,” Bucky said again, louder, and he was wrapping his arms around him, pulling him close, holding him there. Like if he held Steve tight enough, this wouldn’t happen. If they were close enough, Bucky could put him back together.(aka -- the ending of Infinity War reversed)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title is from Sit Next To Me by Foster The People
> 
> I've been sitting on this idea for a few weeks and after seeing Ant-Man & The Wasp for the second time I just went for it
> 
> If I've messed something up let ya girl know

“Thor!”

The world was still; the world was quiet.

It was so different than just a _second_ ago. The air had felt electric, but at the same time, the dread made it feel condensed. Bucky had never fought a fight as hopeless, had never used so much energy only to be crushed. Squashed. Thanos was unstoppable; it seemed stupid now, in hindsight, that they’d thought they could win.

Bucky’d never felt that way before. He never wanted to again.

“Thor!” Steve yelled again, taking a few steps in his direction. Bucky looked over, saw Thor bending down to pick up his axe. “Where’d he go?”

“I don’t know,” Thor said, voice gruff, standing up, looking around. He still looked ready to fight, looked tense and angry and Bucky blinked a few times, thinking he was seeing things, but no, nope, there were definitely sparks coming off of the guy.

And then he dropped the axe.

Steve made a noise next to him, like he was about to ask what was wrong, but Thor was holding his hand up, confusion taking over his expression.

His hand was fading away.

“Thor?” Natalia was walking over to them now, still looking battle ready herself, but that was the way she always was. Smooth and graceful and lethal.

“I don’t know what this is,” Thor said, and it was traveling up his arm now, and then it was spreading, taking over his entire body. He opened his mouth, maybe to ask for help, maybe to curse Thanos some more, Bucky didn’t know. And he would never know; before they knew it, Thor was gone. There was nothing left in his place except ash and dust and his axe.

“What the hell just happened?” Banner asked from behind them. He could hear the mechanics of the suit whirring as he climbed out, heard him stumble slightly. “Where’d he go?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, voice weak. He turned to Bucky, panic flaring in his eyes, and he reached out to grasp his hand.

“Guys?” Rhodes was coming out of the bushes, making his way into the small clearing they were in. Bucky wouldn’t have looked over at him, except he heard someone gasp. And by the time he turned his head, all he saw was dust floating in the breeze, drifting around and laying on the ground.

Natalia walked over to where he’d been, ran her fingers through the ash. That was all that was left of him.

“What is this?” Sam asked, and Bucky hadn’t even noticed him come over. One of his wings was broken, and his arm was bleeding, but he was still there. He wasn’t fading away.

“Banner,” Steve called from beside him, and Bucky whipped his head around, turned to see Bruce turning to dust, too. He was mid step, looking down at himself, and then he was falling, and then he was gone. Just like that.

“What did he do?” Bucky looked back at Natalia, who was still crouched next to the ashes of Rhodes. The soft breeze was pulling and pushing them all over the place, though. “Before he left, what did he do? Are we sure he isn’t still here?”

“He left.” That was Wanda. Everyone looked over at her; she was carrying Vision in her arms, bridal style, except it wasn’t right. His body was gray, lifeless, limp. Wanda’s face was red and splotchy and she’d definitely been crying. “He had all the stones. He left.”

Behind her, Bucky could see the raccoon who’d asked for his arm and the tree boy, slowly walking over, looking as confused and as scared as the rest of them.

Bucky turned back to Natalia, waiting to see how she’d respond, but she was gone. There was nothing in her place except ash floating to the ground.

“Steve,” he whispered, the first time he’d spoken since Thanos left, and his voice was shaking, his hand gripping Steve’s even tighter. He followed Bucky’s eyes, gasped when he saw Natalia was gone, and then he let go of Bucky’s hand.

Except — he didn’t. Bucky looked down, saw that his hand was covered in ash, and his entire brain short circuited.

“No,” he said, moving to hold Steve’s other hand, but that wasn’t there, either. He looked up, met Steve’s gaze, saw how wide his eyes were. How terrified. He’d never seen Steve look that scared, not even when his cough was so bad that blood was coming up. He’d stayed in the hospital for two weeks straight; Sarah Rogers had even started to make funeral arrangements. Burial plans. But Steve hadn’t been scared; he knew he’d be okay.

He didn’t know that now.

“No,” Bucky said again, louder, and he was wrapping his arms around him, pulling him close, holding him there. Like if he held him tight enough, this wouldn’t happen. If they were close enough, Bucky could put him back together.

“Buck,” Steve whispered, burying his head in his neck, his entire body shaking. He was so, so scared.

But then he wasn’t.

Because he was gone.

Bucky fell forward, collapsing to his knees, dust on his face and in his eyes and in his hair. It was on his mouth, too, but he didn’t want to taste it. If he tasted it, he’d throw up, because it was _Steve_. It was Steve, and he was gone, oh, god, he was gone, everyone was gone, everyone was _fading away_ and—

“Hey, hey, Barnes,” Sam said, his voice soft, but close. There was a hand was on his shoulder. He was crouched beside him, and he’d taken his hand, put it on his chest. Bucky just stared at him for a moment, confusion and fear and anguish making an awful cocktail in his head, but then it made sense. He could feel Sam’s heart beating beneath his fingers; he was trying to ground him.

Except his heart was beating a mile a minute, because he was scared, too. Everyone was scared.

Bucky looked around, looked at who was left. There was Wanda, carrying Vision’s body. And there was the tree boy, slowly sinking his hands into the ground, ash dancing around him. The raccoon was gone; he must’ve disappeared soon after Steve had.

“Oh, god,” Bucky said, his voice breaking, hand clutching at Sam’s chest.

 

***

 

“Footloose should be the greatest movie of all time,” Quill mumbled, head down, kicking stones as he walked.

It felt anticlimactic, but they were all just heading to Quill’s ship. Thanos had gotten what he’d wanted, and it didn’t seem like he was going to come back. Besides, if he did, that wouldn’t be good news for them; he’d really kicked their asses.

“You really need to watch more movies,” Mr. Stark said, his voice strained, breaths stuttering. His arm was around Peter’s shoulders and they were walking together, one slow step at a time. Thanos had spared his life, as Doctor Strange had requested, but he’d still been _stabbed_. That wasn’t something anyone could just walk away from.

“There’s no point, Footloose is automatically better,” Quill said, one of the stones flying up and away from them, courtesy of the planet’s decreased gravity.

“Do you ever stop talking about _movies_?” the blue woman (Peter definitely didn’t know her name) asked, her voice clipped, angry. She was walking close behind them, her footsteps sounding as harsh as she was. Peter honestly didn’t know when she’d even gotten there, but she seemed to be on their side. At least, she seemed to hate Thanos. That was good enough.

No one answered her, and so they just kept walking, now in silence. The loudest thing to Peter was Mr. Stark’s breathing, and he wanted to stop and ask him if he needed a break, but he didn’t want to be the one to speak first.

Luckily, he wasn’t. The woman with the two antennas stopped suddenly, making the big tattooed guy (Drax?) bump into her, and she said, her voice soft, “Something’s happening.”

Everyone else stopped, too. Peter looked around, expecting Thanos to reappear, or maybe another flying donut to enter the atmosphere.

But there was neither. The place was eerily quiet, and eerily _everything_ , really. Peter was looking forward to getting off this planet.

“What the hell?” the blue woman asked from behind them, and when Peter turned to look, she was staring at her hand.

Her hand that was _disintegrating_. 

“Nebula?” Drax stepped towards her, pushing past the antenna woman, who was just staring into space now, looking lost and confused.

“You okay, blue?” Mr. Stark asked from beside him, coughing a bit, still holding his side. At least they were taking a break from walking.

“What is this,” Nebula basically growled, her other hand starting to disappear, too. And then it was growing, getting worse, her shoulders gone, her legs starting to go, too, and then she was falling, but by the time she reached the ground, she was just a puff of dust. Ash floating up, up and away.

Everyone was completely still and quiet. Peter was looking around, seeing if anybody else was starting to fade away, but they all seemed okay. Freaked out, but okay.

The only person who didn’t look scared was Doctor Strange. He was staring at the ground, his shoulders tense, one of his hands holding onto his necklace. His now empty necklace.

Peter was about to ask him something (he didn’t entirely know what), but then Mr. Stark was pushing away from him, stumbling a few steps back. His hand was still on his side, and he was hunched over, nearly doubled over, and Peter rushed over to him, only to be pushed away again.

“Mr. Stark?” he asked, his brain trying to sort through all the things that could be going wrong. Had Thanos poisoned him? Was it only taking affect now? Had one of his major organs been hit? Did something rupture?

Mr. Stark moved his hand away from his side, and instead of blood, there was only ash.

Everything was still for just a second longer, and then Peter’s head exploded with panic.

“No,” he said, moving back towards him, and he wasn’t pushed away this time. He put his hand back over the wound, thinking maybe that was the source of it, maybe he just needed to put pressure on it — but then the surrounding skin was turning to dust, too. It was like something was eating away at him, starting at his side and moving in. Peter’s only thoughts were a chorus of _no no no no_ and he may have been saying that out loud, too, he didn’t know.

“Pete,” Mr. Stark said, still sounding breathless, but not pained. He sounded like he was going to reprimand him, or placate him, or try to tell him everything was okay. But it wasn’t, and that was stupid, and he didn’t know what was _happening_ and—

And it happened so fast.

One second Mr. Stark was still there, fading, but at least he was _there_ , and then he was gone.

Ash was blowing all over his suit, making everything look dusty and gray. Peter tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, but he couldn’t. It wouldn’t budge. Tears were forming in his eyes and falling, and his gaze was stuck, stuck on his hand. Mr. Stark’s blood was still on it.

“It was the only way,” Strange said from behind him, and Peter didn’t believe it for a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's real bad rn but it has to be bad before it gets better  
> things will definitely get better


	2. Chapter 2

“You could have left the arm on.”

Bucky turned to look at the entrance to Shuri’s lab, watched as T’Challa descended into the room. He was wearing a white robe, something he’d never seen him in before. Maybe it had something to do with mourning.

He glanced over at Shuri’s workbench, cluttered but at the same time organized. He didn’t know what she’d been working on; all of her schematics were locked away on her personal file. No one else could access them.

He’d put his arm in the middle of her desk.

Bucky sighed, running his hand through his hair and turning back to the king. “Yeah, I know. I just..” It didn’t feel right, to use her tech, when she wasn’t there to fix it. Update it. There was still ash in the cracks and crevices and it made Bucky want to throw up. Wearing the arm was for fighting and _god_ , he didn’t want to fight anymore. “I just couldn’t.”

T’Challa nodded, seeming to understand without Bucky having to say the words. He walked slowly around the room, running his hand over Shuri’s tables, over her tools. Stopped and stood and stared once he got to the prototype Black Panther suits she’d been working on. She’d just made new ones, from what she’d told him, but to her, as soon as it was new, it was old, too.

Bucky missed her.

He missed Natalia, too.

Steve was something more — he could barely live without Steve. But here he was, doing just that. He honestly wasn’t sure how.

“Why are you down here?” T’Challa asked, but he didn’t sound angry. Bucky had access to the lab; first, when Shuri was fixing his head. And then after, too, because they both enjoyed each other’s company. He was sitting in the chair Shuri had made him, the chair he sat in to talk to her and watch her work and occasionally help, as much as he could.

The chair had two arm rests; one, at normal arm height, and then, one on his left side, that was raised up to be more of a shoulder rest. What was left of his left arm fit comfortably there, but Bucky never told her that. He always gave her shit for making him an _amputee chair_ and she always laughed and called him an old man. And when Steve visited (very often), he came down to the lab and sat in the chair with him, on his lap, and Shuri’d give him shit, too.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Bucky said, and it was the truth. Up there, on the surface — it was bad. Everything was bad. From what everyone could tell, the entirety of Earth’s population had been cut in half. There wasn’t one place it hadn’t reached; not one continent, one country, one city. It’d been a little less than a week, and almost every place in the world was still in a state of emergency.

Half was a lot. There was nobody who wasn’t mourning _somebody_. The world had suffered through so much death before; wars and plagues and natural disasters.

But none of that ever amounted to this.

Down in the lab, Bucky could pretend. He was just waiting for Shuri to get back with lunch for them, he was waiting for Steve to get back from a mission, he was reading and Shuri was working and it was quiet, peaceful.

Pretending was better than going to the room he shared with Steve and hugging his pillow to his chest, breathing in his scent and being terrified for the day it faded.

“You could come be with the rest of us,” T’Challa said, his voice soft, gentle. He really was a good king. Bucky knew he was suffering — how could he not be? — but he didn’t show it. Not as outwardly and publicly as others, anyway. Instead of being bitter about the shitty hand the world had dealt him, he was compassionate. Kind.

He cared enough to come and check on the one armed, 101 year old man in his dead sister’s lab.

“Okay,” Bucky said, standing up, running his hand through his hair again. T’Challa was right; he was just isolating himself. And not for any good reason, either. It wasn’t like there was nobody else suffering — _everybody_ was suffering.

T’Challa nodded, then started walking back up, out of the lab. Bucky followed, slowly, casting one last look around at everything before the lights were turned off, shrouding it all in darkness.

 

***

 

There was housing in Wakanda for all of them.

It was in a building not too far away from the lab and the mines, and Bucky wasn’t sure what it had been used for before, but now it was theirs.

There was a common room that had a television and some sofas, and along the back wall there were tables, used for playing cards and eating and, occasionally, puzzles. There was a communal kitchen, too, where Wanda would make food no one else had tried before, and where Bucky and Steve would make mac and cheese at three in the morning. Natalia would make borscht sometimes, too, and Bucky and Wanda were the only ones who liked it.

Bucky was pretty sure that the space had been purposefully Americanized. It was a lot more sleek and modern (in the western sense) than most everywhere else in Wakanda, and while it did look nice, he had come to love the style of Wakanda itself.

Now, the common room looked empty, even though it was as full as it could be.

Sam was on the couch, watching a movie or some show, and Wanda was in the kitchen, cooking something. Whatever it was smelled good, but Wanda looked like she was moving completely on autopilot, not really engaged. The tree boy (who was named Groot, apparently) was nowhere to be seen, but there was a trail of leaves leading down the hallway where their rooms were.

Bucky didn’t know how this worked, but the absence of Steve and Natalia made a _world_ of a difference.

Once he and T’Challa were fully in the room, both Sam and Wanda looked up at them. Wanda’s face was still slightly red, and she just went back to focusing on her food after a few seconds. Sam, at least, tried to smile, but it looked tired, exhausted.

Bucky wanted to go back to the lab. Things were better in there; it was easier to pretend. At least in the lab, the puzzle everyone had been working on wasn’t still strewn out on the table.

But — he couldn’t. He’d followed T’Challa all the way up here, and now the king was looking at him, watching him, like he expected Bucky to just sit down and join the pity party.

He absolutely wasn’t.

“I’ll be in my room if anyone needs me,” he said, and he may have heard T’Challa sigh as he was walking away, but he ignored it.

He considered leaving his door open, but he ultimately decided against it.

 

***

 

Bucky was making mac and cheese that was in the shape of the alphabet.

The shapes always bothered Steve, and even better, he didn’t have an explanation as to why. He’d try to spout off some bullshit about them not being as cheesy, but Bucky knew he was just talking out his ass. (Personally, he found the shapes to be _cheesier_. Not that he ever dared to say that.)

Bucky lived to make Steve happy, though. Lived to see his smile and the way his eyes would shine and how he threw his head back when he laughed. And if something as dumb as regular mac and cheese made him happy, then so be it.

Really, Bucky was just saving himself from future trouble. Whenever Steve came back (because he was _going to_ , he’d make _sure of it_ ), he wouldn’t even want to see the box in the cupboard.

And so that totally justified making alphabet mac and cheese at 3:17 in the morning.

It was stupid of him not to expect anyone else to be awake, though. Out of everyone that was left in the world, a good third of them had to be insomniacs now. You didn’t watch your loved ones fade away into nothing and walk away unscathed.

So, of course, Sam wandered into the common room when he was mixing the cheese powder into the noodles.

The two of them hadn’t really talked — not that Bucky’d talked to much of anyone. His short chat with T’Challa was the longest conversation he’d had in days, and it might’ve been longer than any time he’d ever spoken to Sam. They had some sort of weird rivalry, based around the fact that they both cared for Steve. Or, at least, that’s what he thought it was? He just returned the shit that Sam gave him, and that was that.

“Mac and cheese?” Sam asked, walking over to the kitchen island and leaning against it. He was in sweats and a t-shirt, a different outfit than he’d been in earlier, so it was obviously pajamas, but he didn’t look like he’d slept at all. Just going through the motions, probably.

“Yep,” Bucky answered, getting a fork and eating the noodles out of the pot he’d made them in. He’d only have one dish to clean, this way. He was also too lazy to get out a bowl.

“Nice,” Sam said, and Bucky thought they were just going to leave it at that (which would have been painfully awkward but ultimately okay), but then he continued with, “I talked to my parents today.”

“They’re okay?” They were lucky. At least one of them should have disappeared, considering the whole _cutting the population in half_ thing.

“Yeah, they’re okay.” Sam didn’t seem very happy, though. “The rest of my family… They didn’t fare so well.” He said the words as if he were disconnected from them, as if he was reading them for the first time and then saying them out loud. He was staring straight ahead, too, at nothing in particular.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, like he’d said a thousand times in the past week. He’d said _I’m sorry_ to Wanda as she cried to him about Vision. He’d said _I’m sorry_ to T’Challa when they’d found nothing but ash in Shuri’s lab. He’d said _I’m sorry_ to Nakia when they didn’t find Okoye.

And now he was saying it to Sam.

It felt useless by now.

Sam shrugged slightly, but didn’t say _it’s okay_ because it really, really wasn’t. “I just hate that I was there, y’know? I was right next to the guy that caused all this pain and suffering, and I didn’t stop him.”

“You couldn’t.” None of them could. Well, Thor might’ve been able to (it looked like he got a good hit in with his axe), but now that was out of the question. “He was stronger than all of us combined. There was nothing we could do.”

“Well then I hate that, too.” Sam was looking down at the counter now, his shoulders hunched, exhaustion nearly wafting off of him. Bucky knew what he’d do with Steve, if he ever looked like that (hug him from behind, kiss his neck, offer to take a bath with him), but he definitely couldn’t do that with Sam.

So he just said, “I hate it, too.” And that was the understatement of the year, really. Because Bucky _despised_ it. He couldn’t stand the thought that he’d had to stand there and watch as Steve faded away, that he hugged him and held him and it did _nothing_. That there was nothing anybody could do.

The two of them just stood there for a few moments, silent and still, until Bucky remembered his mac and cheese and started eating it again. That seemed to snap Sam out of it, too, and he went over to the cupboard, pulled out some cereal.

Bucky finished the mac and cheese and Sam poured himself a bowl of Cheerios, and they didn’t say another word to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah I know this chapter was a little slow  
> just wanted to show what life was like in Wakanda, Post Snap  
> next chapter is Peter!


	3. Chapter 3

Peter had a feeling that Quill’s ship wasn’t usually this quiet.

After it became obvious that no one else was going to fade away, they’d continued their trek, silent except for the sounds of Peter sniffling.

Nobody else had cried. They seemed upset about Nebula, sure, but it was clear that no one was all that close with her. Strange seemed to be bummed out about Mr. Stark, but he didn’t know him. Peter probably would have been mad if he _had_ cried — the tears would have been worthless. Mr. Stark wouldn’t have cared.

Once they were on the ship, Quill had gestured to the small space and said, “Mi casa es su casa,” and then went to the front and sat down, pressing buttons and making the ship rumble to life around them.

And then, after that, it was silent.

Mr. Stark and Strange had told Quill to head straight for Earth, before everything had happened, and while that plan wasn’t discussed again, Peter had to assume that’s where they were going. Quill seemed to have a place in mind, anyway, as he was flying. Either that, or he was just aimlessly traveling through space.

Peter had picked a corner that was the farthest from anyone else and sat down, and everyone else seemed to respect that. Strange had done the same, and the others seemed to have their own seats, down by Quill. There were three empty ones, and Peter wondered who was supposed to fill them.

One of them was probably for Gamora, the woman Quill was so concerned about. The one he’d lost his cool about, too, when they were trying to get the glove off of Thanos.

The other two, though, Peter wasn’t sure about. What if they’d suffered the same fate as Mr. Stark and Nebula? Thanos had spoken about killing half the population, hadn’t he? But there’d been seven of them, and only two had disappeared. Maybe he’d only managed a third?

Suddenly, an alarm started going off, making him jump and look up, towards the front of the ship.

“It’s a distress signal,” Drax said, softly. “Should we respond?”

“Ignore it,” Quill said, and that was that.

Except — the alarm kept going off. Drax, presumably, turned it off every time, but it kept happening, every few minutes.

Whatever Thanos had done, he’d done it in a _lot_ of places.

And that meant Earth, too, didn’t it? Of course it did; Earth wasn’t safe. Earth wasn’t protected. Sure, the rest of the Avengers were there, but that didn’t mean there was some magic force field that would stop people from disintegrating.

The thought of May fading into ash and dust slammed into him, making his brain seize up with panic and his breath get caught in his throat.

The result was him coughing, and then choking, and then _great_ , he couldn’t breathe.

“Peter?” Strange asked, sitting up a little from his spot across the ship.

“Don’t die, kid,” Quill called, not even turning around.

The antenna woman, however, both turned around _and_ got up, and then she was kneeling in front of him, right as he managed to take a deep, shuddering breath.

“I’m okay,” he said immediately, but his voice was weak and he felt like he could start crying again. “I’m okay. I just. My aunt, I don’t know if she’s okay. We.. We’re going to Earth, right?”

“That’s the plan,” Quill answered, while the antenna woman just nodded a few times.

Peter nodded along with her, swallowing before taking another deep breath. This one was considerably less shaky. “Okay, then. That’s.. Okay. I’m sorry.”

The alarm sounded again, but after a few seconds, Drax turned it off.

“May I?” the antenna woman asked, holding out her hand. Peter wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to do — or if he wanted her to do it — but he nodded and said _okay_ anyway.

All she did was put her hand on his arm, but both of her antennas lit up, and her gaze moved away from him, to somewhere beyond him.

“You are afraid,” she said, and Peter watched her, watched as her eyes grew sad, pained. “And you are mourning. You cared a lot for that man.”

From behind them, Peter saw Strange shift slightly and look away from them.

Coughing a little, he refocused, and the antenna woman was now looking straight at him. “Uh, yeah,” he said, wanting to look away but not wanting to be rude. “I did. We both… We cared for each other. I think.” _He was like a dad to me_ was on the tip of his tongue, but if he’d never even mentioned that to Mr. Stark, why should he mention it to these strangers?

“You are very anxious,” antenna woman continued, almost as if Peter hadn’t spoke at all. He sort’ve wanted to say _that’s an all the time thing, not just now_. But, again. Strangers. “I can help, if you will let me?”

“Oh, uh…” Peter didn’t really know how she would _help_. He’d seen her knock Thanos out — sort’ve — and that hadn’t looked all that pleasant, so. “That’s okay. I’m okay.”

She must not have listened to him, though, because after a few seconds he felt inexplicably _calm_. Like before, all of his worries had been really, really concentrated, and she’d diluted it. It was all still there — it wasn’t like he was going to _stop caring_ that Mr. Stark was gone — but it was just. Watered down.

“Oh,” he breathed out, looking up at her again. “That’s… Thank you, um..” He trailed off, not wanting to say _thank you antenna lady_.

“Mantis,” she supplied, and Peter nodded, even smiled a little.

“Thank you, Mantis.”

She took her hand off his arm and smiled back at him, then stood up and went back to her seat.

Peter glanced over at Strange, who was watching him again, this time with an eyebrow raised. His only response was to just shrug, because yeah, it was definitely a weird interaction, but hey, he felt better now. He’d take it.

 

***

 

It took another few hours to get back to Earth.

It seemed longer than the trip to Titan, but maybe that’s because there was actually _talking_ on that trip. This one was just silence and occasionally, the alarm, but that got less and less frequent. Quill eventually turned on some music, which was nice, but he didn’t really know any of the songs. A couple of them had Strange tapping his foot, though.

Eventually, Earth came into view, and that was… An experience. He’d been too preoccupied to notice, when he was climbing into the giant donut, but god, Earth was _beautiful_. He almost wanted to take a picture with his phone, but he was pretty sure he lost it, somewhere along the way.

_Mr. Stark won’t mind getting me a new one_ was the first thought he had, until he realized what a stupid thought that was, and his chest ached.

“Alright, where on this giant rock am I supposed to land?” Quill asked, still in his seat, not turning to face them. “I haven’t been here in almost thirty years, so you can’t blame me if my geography skills are a little off.”

Peter and Strange glanced at each other, and then Strange said, “New York City.” After a pause, he added, “I can give you the coordinates, if need be.”

“Yeah, need be,” Quill said, and Strange sighed a little before standing up and walking to the front of the ship.

Peter just peered out the window some more, trying to memorize it all. May was going to be mad at him for hopping on a spaceship and leaving for a day, but maybe describing what the Earth looked like from space would help his case a little.

Not being disintegrated would probably help, too.

“Alright,” Quill said, as Strange was walking back to his spot. “To New York City we go!”

“What happened to Old York City?” Drax asked.

 

***

 

The coordinates Strange had given Quill had been to his sanctum, and there was a giant hole in the front of it.

“What happened to your sanctuary?” Mantis asked as they climbed out of the ship (which was settled on the roof, and then Strange had opened up one of his portal things that led to the inside), looking around at both the sanctum and New York City.

“Doctor Bruce Banner crashed through the roof of my _sanctum_ ,” Strange said, watching as everyone passed through the portal, and then, once they were all inside, passed through it himself and closed it. “He was coming to warn me about Thanos.”

“And that did a lot of good,” Quill said, walking over to a bookshelf and thumbing through all the books.

Actually, all three of them seemed completely fascinated with everything in Strange’s sanctum. Mantis was touching the arm of a statue, much like she’d touched his arm, and Drax was looking at some antiques that were in a glass case.

Peter looked over at Strange, who looked more stressed than he’d seen him the entire time they were in space.

“Uh, listen, Doc, I think I’m gonna take off,” he said, sort of hesitantly, and Strange’s eyes flitted over to him, seeming both irritated and surprised. “I’ll be back,” he added, quickly, and he tapped the side of his neck, making his mask come over his face (nanotech was _cool_ ), “I just want to see my aunt and everything. And my friends. And.. Yeah. I’ll be back.”

“Alright,” Strange said, just as Quill knocked a book off the shelf. He sighed. “I’m going to try and contact the other sanctums. And see if Wong is still here.”

Peter didn’t know who Wong was, but he just nodded. “Okay, yeah. See ya.” And then he shot his web towards the hole in the roof, going up and using that as an exit.

He was Spider-Man; he didn’t use doors.

The trip back to the apartment wasn’t that long, but the anticipation made it feel like forever. He just wanted to get back to May as soon as possible, wanted her to know that he was okay. A little banged up, a lot traumatized, but okay. All in one piece, at least.

Out of habit, Peter entered the apartment through his bedroom window, but he didn’t even bother to shut it. He didn’t change out of the suit, either; he just pushed open his door, calling, “May! I’m home! Are you okay?” as he walked into the living room.

The lights were on, by the sofa and in the kitchen, and the TV was on, too. It was a multicolored screen that read, _THIS IS NOT A TEST. A NATIONWIDE STATE OF EMERGENCY IS IN EFFECT, PLEASE STAND BY AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. THIS IS NOT A TEST._

And the room was empty, too.

Panic started to grip him, tighten his chest, and he went back down the hallway, to their rooms, peeking his head into May’s.

Empty.

He checked the bathroom, thinking that maybe she was in there, maybe, _maybe_ —

But that was empty, too.

Peter was definitely freaking out now, breaking into a sprint as he made his way back into the living room. He was looking for the apartment phone, because maybe May was just out, and he could call her, and hear her voice, and know she was okay, and — 

And her cell phone was on the floor, in front of the sofa.

And it was covered in ash.

He fell to his knees immediately, all the breath in his lungs being knocked out of him at once. A strangled _no_ made it’s way out of his throat, followed by several more _no’s_ , and then he was crying. He was sobbing, reaching down to pick up his aunt’s phone with shaking hands, hands that started shaking even more as he brushed the dust off of the screen. He unlocked her phone, saw that it was on his contact page, and then he collapsed completely to the ground. He laid there, in front of the sofa, holding May’s phone to his chest, and he cried.

 

***

 

That was how Strange found him, a few hours later, when he opened one of his portals into the apartment.

He looked determined, focused, ready to go, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw Peter, lying in front of the sofa, still clutching May’s phone.

Pain passed over his face, but only for a second. Then he was neutral — a little softer, though. More gentle. “I’m sorry, Peter.”

What was he supposed to say to that? His normal response was _it’s okay_ , but it wasn’t. Mr. Stark was gone, May was gone, probably countless others that he didn’t even know about. Ned, MJ, anyone else he cared about, they could all just be _gone_.

“Are we going to fix this?” was what ended up coming out of Peter’s mouth. He probably sounded young, like a dumb, scared little kid, but he couldn’t help it. Mantis wasn’t there to dilute the pain, and he was feeling it. Full force.

His question just seemed to make Strange’s determination come back, though. “Yes,” he said, and he was holding his necklace again. It looked absent minded. “That’s why I’m here. There’s someone you need to meet.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains spoilers for Ant-Man & The Wasp!  
> I tried to keep it as spoiler free as possible, and I think I did an okay job? This chapter focuses more on my storyline and not what happened in the movie. The spoilers are still there, though!  
> I'll explain more in the notes at the end, though.

Hank Pym wished that the world could stop shitting itself for _maybe_ five seconds.

There was always some new threat, some approaching, looming catastrophe. Aliens, floating cities, and, now, half of Earth’s population just _disappearing_.

It was great. It was all great. Fantastic, really.

Personally, he was fine with sitting this one out. He’d just spent the last two years running from the FBI _while_ building a tunnel into the quantum realm, and after all that, he’d finally gotten Janet back. Now was the time for them to rest, to enjoy each other’s company.

It was _not_ time for them to save the world.

Except — his wife disagreed.

“Henry,” she’d said, “I _know_ we can help. We can help these people.” Hank hadn’t been convinced, not really, until she’d added, “We can help Scott.”

And damn him, but that one got him. No matter how annoying the guy may have been (very), his daughter cared about him. His wife had some strange bond with him. And Hank had trusted him enough with his suit, with his life’s work, with the title of Ant-Man.

Keyword being _had_. Most of the people he trusted in his life weren’t stupid enough to go to Germany, fight the Avengers, and get _caught_.

But that was behind them. Or, at least, Hank was trying very hard to put it behind them.

One of the biggest reasons that Scott made him want to save the world (what a sentence _that_ was) was really because of Cassie.

Almost immediately, Jim had reached out, trying to figure out what happened. Hank guessed it was fair that he thought they had something to do with it — although, _why_ would they make half of the world disappear? (Janet told him not to focus on that so much.) When the three of them, still reeling from the shock of Scott fading away, couldn’t really provide him any answers, Jim took it upon himself to make an in-person visit.

And he’d brought Cassie.

The two of them were a mess. Maggie had apparently disappeared, and then, after hearing about Scott, Cassie completely broke down. It made Hank’s heart ache; she was a tough kid with an open mind, easily accepting everything her dad did, everything they did. She was going to do great things one day, and she deserved to have the support of both of her parents. Or, all three of them, counting Jim.

But Cassie Lang wasn’t the only kid who’d lost her parents. There were probably more orphaned kids than Hank could process, and realizing that made him see that he was just being an old grump, an asshole, and that if he could help, he should.

When he told Janet that, the smile she gave him in return told him that she’d just been waiting for him to get there. The woman really had incredible patience.

So, they were helping. It was official, that was the plan.

Except they didn’t really know what happened.

There was the obvious; people all over the world were disappearing, _half_ being the best guesstimate everyone could come up with. There was footage from every country, every city, showing people crumbling to ash and dust before the survivors’ eyes. News reporters, live and on the field, stopping mid sentence and falling, disappearing. Singers performing at concerts, finishing their sets and then disintegrating, along with half the crowd. It was awful to watch, terrible to witness everyone’s pain. Watching Scott fade away had been more than enough for him.

So they knew what happened. But they didn’t know _what_ happened.

There was, of course, a _reason_ that half the Earth turned to dust. Things like that didn’t just happen — and Hank didn’t want to live in a world where it did.

“We could try and locate Tony Stark,” Hope suggested. The three of them were currently in their van, the lab shrunken down and packed away. They were parked on the side of the street, and sort’ve parked _in_. The streets of New York City were littered with cars, and accidents, and actually a few helicopters. Disintegration obviously didn’t wait until you weren’t driving anymore.

“Howard Stark’s son?” Janet asked, looking to Hank for an answer. They had both worked with Howard during their days with Shield, and they’d both known Tony as well. Bright but rebellious, his potential had been promising, but his recklessness difficult to look past. Hank had always thought that Tony was the son Howard deserved.

“Yes, Howard’s son,” Hank said. “He’s known as Iron Man now. A superhero.”

“Iron Man?” Janet didn’t seem impressed. “Could’ve been a little more creative.”

“You guys were Ant-Man and the Wasp,” Hope pointed out, but both Hank and Janet waved her off at the same time. She just sighed, continuing with, “Stark was last seen flying towards the wheel as it left the atmosphere, and he’s been MIA ever since.”

“Was he with anyone?” Janet asked. “Perhaps it’d be easier to find them.”

“People caught footage of him coming out of a building with three other people,” Hope said, turning her laptop so Hank and Janet could see the video. It was recorded on someone’s phone, when the wheel had first touched down in the city. It was a shaky video, and the chaos and panic were easily seen. But there was Tony, walking out of an ornate looking building, followed by a man in a cape, another man in unusual clothing, and… Doctor Bruce Banner.

Hope replayed the video, giving them all a better look, and Janet hummed. “Do we know any of those people?”

“One of them is Dr. Bruce Banner,” Hank said. “Another superhero. The Hulk. He’s a scientist, too. A lot of his work was in the early 90s.”

Janet nodded a few times. “I remember hearing a bit about him. Do we know where he is?”

Hope turned her laptop back around and typed for a few minutes. Eventually she said, “No. No footage of him after him leaving that building.”

They all thought for a moment before Hank asked, “Where _is_ that building?”

“Looks like…” More typing. “Bleecker Street. According to the location that was tagged on the video.”

“Well,” Janet said, “I don’t think it’d hurt to drive by there.”

 

***

 

The congestion in the streets was easy to avoid when you were the size of a Hot Wheels car.

It was strange, though, seeing New York City with empty sidewalks, but it wasn’t like any stores were open. The official statement from the government had been to “stay inside your home unless otherwise notified.” Hank had to assume that the _otherwise notified_ was for people who worked and dealt with the electrical grids. He hadn’t seen any reports of _major_ power outages in the country, and they probably wanted to keep it that way.

They found the building on Bleecker Street in a little less than twenty minutes. While it was definitely as unique as they were expecting, they had _not_ anticipated the hole in the front of it. The video hadn’t quite captured that part.

“It’s a way in,” Hope said, finishing suiting up and putting her helmet on. It probably wasn’t dangerous — it looked pretty abandoned, actually, although everywhere sort’ve did — but there was nothing wrong with being safe. So Hope was going to go in, scope the place out, while Janet and Hank monitored her from the van. It was the first time Janet would really get to see her in the suit, so Hank could tell she was hoping for a fight.

At least a little bit.

“It’s just such an interesting building,” Janet said, still peering out of the van’s window, at the hole. “Such a shame something happened to it.”

“I’m sure they’ll get it fixed in no time, sweetheart,” Hank assured her, rubbing her back. Though, really, he wasn’t sure who would find roof repair a top priority when half the Earth’s population was gone. But he didn’t say that.

“We ready to go?” Hope asked, rolling down one of the windows just a crack, so she would have enough room to fly out. She was never very good at sitting still, always wanting to be doing something. And especially now, when sitting still meant thinking about Scott.

“We’re ready to go, jellybean,” Janet said, and before Hank could even wish her good luck, she was gone, a slight buzzing barely audible as she flew out the window.

On their computer screen, they watched as Hope approached the house, flying up to the hole and then into it. Immediately, other voices could be heard, and it wasn’t long before Hope was close enough to make out what they were saying.

“—sure the ship isn’t visible?” That was a man’s voice, but Hank didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t Tony Stark or Dr. Banner.

“Yes, I’m sure the ship isn’t visible. I turned the shield on, it should blend in with everything else.” A different man. Still not recognizable.

On the screen, Hope was flying down a grand staircase (also with a hole in it), and then rounding a corner. There was a doorway, into what looked like a library, and as Hope flew closer, it was obvious that’s where the voices were coming from.

“Are you devising a plan to defeat Thanos?” another man asked, right as everyone came into view.

There were four of them. The man who wore the cape in the video was one, and he was flipping through pages in a book, looking focused. He was definitely in worse shape than he had been earlier, though, and his cape was off, making him seem more casual. There was a man lounging in a chair, wearing a red leather jacket, unzipped. He looked tired, defeated. It was easy to see that he’d lost someone. There was another man, who was shirtless, sitting on the edge of a table, sharpening knives. He definitely wasn’t human; his skin was a bluish gray, and red tattoo-esque marks covered his body. The fourth person was a woman, outfitted in a green top and black pants, and she wasn’t human, either. Her eyes were large and black, and she had two antennas sticking out of her forehead.

Hank had absolutely no idea who anyone was.

“I’m seeing if it’s possible to bring someone back from the dead,” the man from the video said, still looking through the book, not even looking up. “It is, if you’re willing to use some very dark sorcery. Which I am not.”

“What, you think you can use a spell in a book to bring back half the universe?” That was the man in the leather jacket, the defeated one. “We need to find Thanos and get the gauntlet back. That’s the only way to fix this.”

Hank and Janet looked at each other, both of them probably thinking similar things.

One — who was Thanos?

Two — half the _universe_? That was a much bigger scale than just Earth. Whoever they were dealing with was more powerful than anyone they could comprehend.

Three — what gauntlet?

Hope seemed to be on the same page. “We need to find out who Thanos is,” she whispered, despite the fact that no one would be able to hear her. She was barely _visible_ , let alone audible.

“We should just ask them,” Janet said, and she was right. Whoever these people, they were on their side — they’d teamed up with Tony Stark, after all.

“Should I reveal myself?” Hope asked, and Hank was about to say _no, not yet_ , when the antenna girl tensed up, looking around. The ends of her antennas started glowing, too.

“Someone else is here,” she said. “I can sense their grief.”

Immediately, everyone else in the room reacted. The tattooed man stood up, getting into a defensive position, wielding his knives. The guy in the leather jacket was up too, holding two guns, and the man from the video had his cape again, and seemed to have conjured two orange disks. The antenna girl didn’t look ready to fight, but she was still glowing.

“Who the hell are these people,” Hank asked, and neither Janet nor Hope had an answer.

“Reveal yourself,” the man in the cape commanded, and in a matter of seconds, Hope was doing just that.

She obviously startled them; they all backed up a step, but then their defense was back up, and all their weapons were aimed directly at his daughter.

“Hope, you better know what you’re doing,” Hank said, and he was half out of his seat, ready to burst into the building. Janet seemed ready to do the same.

“What master do you serve?” the cape man asked, his voice still commanding, and Hank could tell the question caught Hope off guard.

But before she could answer, the leather jacket guy was saying, “Really? Again with that master serving shit? Is this how you talk to everyone?”

Cape man’s orange disks seem to falter for a second. “It’s straight and to the point. What would you have said?”

“How about ‘who are you?’ I think that’s pretty standard.” Jacket guy refocused on Hope, then, and asked, “Who are you?”

“My name is Hope van Dyne,” she said. “And I don’t serve Thanos. I’m here to help.”

“That’s exactly what someone who served Thanos would say,” the tattooed man said, inching closer to Hope, knives still pointed at her.

“Okay, dude, that was a little rude, c’mon,” jacket guy said. “But he does have a point, sort of. Why should we trust you?”

“Because I lost someone.” Hank winced a little, and Hope continued. “Like she said, I’m grieving. And I want to help fix this. I want to stop Thanos.”

“And how do you think you can help?” cape man asked, still in a defensive position, although it seemed like the orange disks might’ve been smaller.

“My parents and I have a way to harness quantum energy.” Hope paused for a second, then said, “Mom, dad — come in.”

 

***

 

Hank thought they’d spent the next half an hour with several weapons pointed at all three of them as they tried to explain themselves, but as soon as he introduced himself as Hank Pym, cape man’s orange disks dissolved completely.

“Hank Pym? As in Pym Technologies?”

The other three looked confused, but Hank had a sense that cape man was their leader, so that didn’t matter much. “As in Pym Technologies, yes. This is my wife, Janet van Dyne, and you’ve met my daughter, Hope.”

“You know these people?” jacket guy asked, still holding his guns up, but they weren’t exactly aimed at them anymore. Mostly the wall behind them and the doorway.

Cape man ignored him completely, reaching out to shake each of their hands. “I’m Doctor Stephen Strange, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jacket guy threw his arms up in the air, then holstered his guns, also reaching his hand out. “I’m Peter Quill, but you can call me Star-Lord. Those two are Drax and Mantis, who aren’t from Earth, so they have no idea what you’re talking about. I, on the other hand, am intimately familiar with Pym Technologies.”

Stephen looked confused now. “Didn’t you say you haven’t been here in thirty years?”

“Yes, I did say that.” Peter (Hank was not going to call him _Star-Lord_ ) was still working on shaking their hands, only stepping back after he was done. “I was intimately familiar with it as an 8 year old, before being abducted by aliens.”

“The company was in it’s infancy thirty years ago,” Hank said, again wondering who the hell these people were. He turned back to Stephen. “We want to help you, and we think we can. But first, you have to tell us who Thanos is.”

Immediately, all the faces in the room turned grim.

“Oh,” Peter said, “We can tell you who Thanos is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I didn't include any description of Scott's death, because I felt like that would be crossing the line into too spoilery? I did change a few things from the movie, though, so if anyone wants me to write out his death as sort've a bonus chapter type deal, just let me know!  
> Also, what I said in the beginning of this fic still applies -- if I messed something up, let ya girl know
> 
> Next chapter will be Peter again, since everyone in Wakanda is just sort've quietly grieving.


End file.
